


SPN Roadtrip - Part 1

by ccarmich52



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Family Business Beer Company (Supernatural RPF), Nonfiction, Travelogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:35:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26253493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ccarmich52/pseuds/ccarmich52
Summary: July 2018: 10 days, 2614 miles, one 2018 "Arrest Me Red" Mustang convertible. This is my "hunter's journal" of the real-life adventure I took to visit some of the show's settings, meet fans face-to-face. This is where my involvement in the fandom lead me. There may even be enough here to branch out into fiction, but these thoughts and events all happened.  Welcome to my brain :-)Please feel free to provide corrections, commentary, constructive criticism. Carry on!
Comments: 1
Kudos: 1





	1. Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> July 14-19, 2018.

Supernatural Road Trip – July 14th – Prologue

Spent $35 for a one-day pass to O-Comicon in order to pay $25 to take a selfie with Julian Richings – “Death” – from _Supernatural_. It seems fitting, I think, to start what could turn out to be “the roadtrip from Hell” to have a picture of Death looking over your shoulder.

Truth be told, I hadn’t planned to spend the whole day at the con, but as of 3:00 today, it’s been pretty well worth it. Although I feel like I should be home mowing the lawn…

I attended Julian’s panel and learned some pretty cool things. He says, “I’m kind of a jiggly guy.” And it’s true, he moves around on stage a lot. He has a brother who was very much into the punk music scene in England. Julian actually played a “rock god” in a movie called _Hard Core Logo_. Maybe I’ll be able to watch it while on the trip.

Spent a couple of hours reading a book on my phone and people watching this afternoon. Some of these cos players are very… comfortable… with their bodies and showing lots of skin. At this time I am not one of those people so I shouldn’t judge and yet I have – many times – and at the same time I admired their bravery.

Only tonight, with the car rental 12 hours away, am I getting nervous for my trip. Not sure if it’s the car being a stick, the money, the drive, the potential for something to go wrong… I THINK I’ve minimized my risk sufficiently.

Supernatural Road Trip – July 15-?

Thought I’d try to log this trip as a hunter’s journal. In fact, the hunter’s journal I received for Christmas is what I’m writing in and then transcribing here. (Note to self: you ALWAYS overpack and you KNOW this!)

In “Another Life Saved by Supernatural” I said I didn’t know where my interest in the fandom would take me. Turns out, it’s all over the place, and traveling on my own. We all deal with stresses in our lives in different ways – different stresses require different coping skills. I first got the idea for a road trip when I learned Jensen Ackles was opening the Family Business Beer Company in Dripping Springs, TX. Like the true over-the-top researcher I am, I followed its development closely… geez Carmichael, does EVERYTHING need a backstory?

Very well. Why does it appear that I am running away from home? Because in true “good girl” fashion, I moved from my father’s house into my husband’s house and I haven’t been truly independent (in my definition of the word: not dependent on anyone else, alone) ever. There’s a distinct difference between having a night home alone when hubby takes the kids to the movies or attending a work-related conference by yourself and what I am talking about. (For more insight into running away, go watch the movie _Sabrina_ with Harrison Ford, Greg Kinnear, and Julia Ormond.)

I positively DESPISE being rescued. Car dies because of flooding on the roads? Call hubby because he has the AAA. Accidentally lock the motorcycle key in the trunk? Call Mom & Dad because they have a spare key – which they have to drive 10 miles to deliver! I am a 40-something grown-ass woman. I shouldn’t NEED to be rescued. (And don’t go asking me how calling AAA for a tow myself is any less of a rescue. This is my brain we’re dealing with. I just know there is a difference.)

And now…reflections on Day 1 – July 16th, 2018

Every trip has to begin with a “shake-your-head-at-the-absurdity” moment. This trip was no different. As I was pulling out of the driveway in my brand-new, rented, “Arrest Me Red, convertible Mustang, a man walks up to the car. (Bastard’s lucky he didn’t get run over. Convertibles have obscenely narrow rear windows!) He is apparently the driver of a big truck that can’t get down the street because my neighbor and I have parked our cars across from each other on the curb. We’re not evil people. We just don’t believe traffic needs to go 50mph in a 25mph neighborhood where kids play. Parallel parking keeps the idiots at bay.

My entire being wanted to tell this guy about the Carmichael Go-Around-the-Block School of Driving, but I resisted. I called the hubby to come out and move the Tin Roof Rusted beast into the driveway after I pulled out.

1st stop on the way out of Omaha: ATM for emergency cash.

I-680 to I-80 west. Passed the wreckage and cleanup of an accident – several cars – on I-680. Four state trooper cars!

I spent a good portion of yesterday worrying about getting stopped for speeding on I-80. Talk about needing to loosen the noose!

The next stop was Grand Island, NE. for gas, which I probably didn’t need but I’m glad I stopped anyway. Three hours without walking around or moving significantly results in the need to stretch. The car is comfortable to drive even if the cruise control is a bit persnickety.

All three times I stopped for gas I almost forgot to close the tank door! A huge shout-out and thank you to the guy in Wellington, KS, who came in to tell the cashier that the gas door was open on “that gorgeous Mustang out there.” I was standing at the register. “Oh! That would be mine!” Doh!

HWY 281 in Nebraska, heading south from Grand Island, is not as straight as it looks on the atlas. Around Hastings I had to backtrack twice because I got turned around or misread the signs. “But Carmichael, why not use the GPS?” I haven’t wanted to turn on or use GPS or Waze app on my phone. Whether I should be or not, I am proud of being able to navigate using a map – even one as basic as the U.S. Road Atlas from Rand-McNally – and navigate accordingly. Some skills are use-it-or-lose-it propositions, map reading is not. A subtle demonstration of independence or stubbornness?

As I was tooling down HWY 281 with the top down there was a lonely air raid siren tower out in the middle of a Kansas field. The strangest thought went through my head: “What kind of guy takes a job keeping a lighthouse?” (Thank you Linus Larraby, _Sabrina_ ). As I continue to think about that single tower, that line made more sense. Similar to the lighthouse keeper, somewhere, there is a person whose responsibility is to sound/activate that siren. A single, stolid sentinel whose reach sounds for miles warning of pending danger.

Made it to Lebanon, KS – the Geographic Center of the Lower 48 Contiguous United States – population almost nil. OK, 281 people according to the last Census. I even got pictures. There was a young family just out taking a day trip so we traded cameras. Hubby 3D printed an angel blade for me as an anniversary present. One picture I took has the blade laying on the podium in the chapel on the grounds of the center Monument. I drove through the little town after visiting the monument. Many run-down properties sat abandoned, surrounded by verdant fields. Alas, there was no bunker to be found.

It’s very understandable why Lebanon was chosen as the site for the Men of Letters bunker. Similar to the reasoning behind siting the Strategic Air Command (Offutt Air Force Base) in the middle of the country – it’s a hard target to hit from anywhere else on the planet. If the town was any more unassuming, there wouldn’t be a town there. There’s a point where “out of sight, out of mind” becomes both a strategic and a tactical advantage.

Looking east on HWY 191 from the Center Monument, everything is just spread out healthy and green. The area must be getting adequate rain because even the creeks and rivers were up. Although I did notice a fair amount of irrigation going on. Here I’ll stop the travelogue and take a bit of a thought detour:

There was a block of time where I traded listening to the radio for Jamie Campbell Bower’s/ Counterfeit. CD. The whole “Together We are Stronger” album has some extraordinary rhythms perfect for hard driving. I just let it repeat probably five or six times. Since then, I’ve been chasing a thought/ concept around the “Together We Are Stronger” theme from the album in relation to how I was feeling standing at the Center of the U.S. Something along the lines of being strong together doesn’t imply weakness in the individual. When I finally stopped at the end of Day 1, I was in Vinita, OK. In order to flesh out these thoughts, I contacted Axy, a fellow wordsmith and SPN fan. 

Fendi ran a commercial this year with Jamie Campbell Bower as their model. In the ad he is asked, “What do you fear?” to which he answers, “Collapse of the imagination.” So there I am, standing smack dab in the middle of the U.S., looking out over literally thousands of acres, when that question and answer popped into my head. There is a connection that I can’t quite bring together: between fear, imagination, strength in unity and strength in individuality. If imagination is a key to all kinds of freedom (perhaps to freedom itself) and an escape to (and FROM) everything, and fear is a lack of freedom…does it follow that without imagination we are simply slaves to our fears? As I stood viewing and absorbing that vast expanse, I felt opposing things: 1) How small am I right here? Vs. 2) How strong am I? How determined, headstrong – to show up alone? It was almost as if I was proving to Nature or the universe that I was something other than all of my fears. Maybe “fears” isn’t the right word.

“What IS the right word?” “More isn’t always better, Linus. Sometimes it’s just more.” (Really, you're going to need to watch Sabrina to get all the movie quote references my brain has to offer. 90% song lyrics and movie quotes up in here.)

And now we return to our regularly scheduled programming… **Day 1 continues**

I took HWY 281 south to HWY 36 hoping to “quickly” – always a relative term in fly-over country – make my way over to Vinita, OK. It started to rain so I pulled over to put the top back up on the car. Judging by the sunburn on my shoulders and forehead, that was probably a good idea. HWY 36 east – stopped in Mankato for gas then got over to HWY 81 South which turns into I-135 until the toll part – color me cheap. HWY 81 is the most infernal road – bumps and cracks – and it keeps pairing up with other highways going other directions. It was easy to go too fast on it though. Keeping my lead foot in check – which I inherited honestly from my father – was difficult. But sometimes, you just gotta let the horses run! I've got this beautiful machine: a 5.0 Litre V-8 engine that will crank out 460 horses if I need it, and capable of 420 lb-ft of torque? It would be a shame not to take advantage of that for at least a little bit.

Oy, how many times did I have to recheck the atlas to make sure I didn’t confuse HWY 160 and 166? Too many! I finally made it down to HWY 166 which kind of goes along the ass-crack border of KS and OK. Awesome. Just a straight, albeit long, shot over to Vinita! Oh contrare mon frere! As towns grow into cities and annex each other, dirt roads get paved; fields that grew crops now sport racetracks, arenas, and apartments; and neighbors aren’t so neighborly. These “improvements” happen gradually and over time one forgets things about Small Town, America. Small towns that stay small tend to roll up the sidewalks at 8pm even on a weeknight, and one begins to feel a sense of relief at the sight of a Casey’s General Store or Flying J truckstop still being open when you crawl through town at the modest speed of 30mph.

One of the goals of this trip is to try to answer every day and honestly the following question: “ **What have I appreciated more about me today?** ”

For July 16th:

  * My stamina. I left Omaha about 8:15 AM, went southwest almost 5 hours with only 2 short 15 minute stops until I got to Lebanon, KS. Then another eight hours back east and a smidge south to Vinita, OK.
  * Ability to read a map and navigate effectively – thanks Dad!



July 17, 2018 – Day 2

Since I rolled into Vinita so late last night, I determined to spend the day looking around the town and then doing some reading and writing. I am so jazzed to meet Deb White, aka ClassiChassis, one of the co-authors of some of the DarkHunters fanfics. While I learned that Vinita is on the historic Route 66, I also discovered that I am a weather wuss. Torrential downpours almost all day long actually prompted me to make scads of hot tea in my hotel room. I spent today writing, planning out more of my trip, reading, and drinking tea.

I texted with Deb a few times today and we made plans to have dinner. She and her husband Kevin picked me up at the hotel and we went to a diner that served the best chicken fried steak! Listening to some of their convention stories, I find that Kevin and my husband have 3D printing in common, and then we went back to my hotel.

Travelling solo is supposed to be an adventure, and in light of my “I despise being rescued” attitude, this may come as a surprise, but I ASKED Deb and Kevin for a second opinion about the state of one of my tires. To me, it appeared the front passenger tire was a little low. Deb asked, “Doesn’t that car have an electronic tire pressure sensor to tell you if it’s low?” According to the little book in the glove compartment it did, but a lifetime of doing your own maintenance kind of gives you an eye for these things. Deb pulls out this handy compressor with a tire pressure gauge on it and yep, it’s a smidge low! It’s not enough to be dangerous, but enough to notice. Kevin added some air and voila! All done! Maybe look at this as “rescue prevention?”

The three of us hung out and chatted in my room for probably an hour. Deb and I found more to bond over than just _Supernatural_. Props to her for pointing out to me that I am in fact, driving the Horseman of War’s car (a cherry red Mustang, 2018 vs. 1965) on this trip. We both collected Breyer’s horse statues in our youth and love the Outlander books. (Note to self: take a picture of the horse on wheels and send it to Deb.) They both signed my Hunter’s Journal and we pledged to keep in touch.

Addendum, 8/6/2018 - I forgot to answer the question, “What have I appreciated more about me today?” In hindsight, there are a couple of things: “The problem with wanting spontaneity is that sometimes you get it.” In other words, be careful what you wish for. And the corollary to that is Charles Darwin’s “It is not the strongest of the species that survive, nor the most intelligent, but the one most responsive to change.” I adapted to my situation mentally, financially, and physically, and was OK with that. So I didn’t get to tour the town the way I wanted, and bowed to the weather’s whims. I also appreciated my ability to focus and listen as Deb and Kevin relayed their convention experiences, photo op fun, and search for classic cars. Scrolling through Twitter posts from throughout the fandom, it’s very easy to get caught up in comparing your life to the lives you see represented in your feed at 140 characters. It often feels like a game of “Keeping Up with the Jones’ “. However, actually having a sit-down conversation cements the fact that these “voices screaming into the void” have 40 minute commutes; jobs they love (or hate or tolerate); and people, projects, or interests they feel passionately about. (Shout out to the Oxford comma and apologies for ending my sentence with a preposition!) The first quotation is mine. Perhaps I’ll turn it into a song lyric…oh, lyrics, that’s a completely separate entry.

**7/18/18, 10:42pm**

Left Vinita later than I planned due to an ant infestation! From all of the rain over the last 24 hours, the ants who would normally go marching in two-by-two to get out of the rain crawled out of the hotel flower beds, up my car tires, and took up residence. They crawled in the cup holders, on the steering wheel, and under the floor mats. Gah! It was my own personal “Bugs” episode from Season 1. Finding a store with ant traps to use in the car was the first challenge of the day. The second challenge was just keeping myself from shivering with the heebie-jeebies each time I noticed another ant.

Going through Oklahoma diagonally via HWY 69 because while the interstate may have been faster, this trip isn’t about speed. HWY 69 went over Lake Eufala, which is gorgeous when covered with fog. I wonder if this is a lake created and managed by the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, because that connection with my first “real job” still makes me proud. I am resolved to come back here and actually stop to visit.

Meanwhile, all of the little towns that exist on HWY 69 conspire to make it impossible to maintain a consistent speed. Yesterday I was following a conversation in the fandom on Instagram and Twitter about parts of the male anatomy which was quite amusing. All of the sudden, I pull up to a stoplight in some small town and what do I see mounted on the corner next to me? Yup the largest statue of a rooster I’d ever seen – a giant cock-a-doodle-doo. I couldn’t resist posting a picture.

Crossed into the Republic of Texas at 3:22PM. Hundreds of miles of construction and Route 1 South through Austin after dusk and I finally made it to Dripping Springs, TX. I need a nap!

Discovered something about the lights on the Mustang. When it’s dark and you open the doors, the image of a horse shows up on the ground! It’s wicked cool and I’ll get pix tomorrow night! How did I discover this wonderous feature? Well, I blew through Dripping Springs because it was dark as pitch and no readily visible signage close to the highway for my hotel and no sign (that I saw, let’s be honest) that says “Welcome to Dripping Springs, home of the Family Business Beer Co!” So, I just kept driving and driving, and it’s dark, and there are sporadic cars and trucks. Finally, I suppose I’m about 10 miles past the last gas station I saw with lights on when I decided I needed to turn around and ask for directions. (Insert your favorite male-bashing joke here)

Pulling into the gas station/Subway parking lot faster than was prudent, I parked and opened the car door. There on the ground was the image of an all-white pony, legs up like it was running flat out. For some reason, after seeing that, I didn’t feel like a nincompoop having to go in and ask where my hotel was. And since the geezer (I use the term with endearment) behind the register was so cool, I bought a Coke in a real glass bottle, even though I didn’t need it.

“Up to the third stop light, then hang a left, and then another left, and the hotel is back in behind the shopping plaza.” Truth. There it was. No wonder I couldn’t see it from the highway. Oh, and they only have one room available for tonight. I have to check back in the morning for future accommodations. Actually, this is OK with me. Seeing as how they want way more money per night than what the website is advertising, I am willing to go elsewhere if needed.

7/19/18, 9:00AM

Only able to get tonight at the Holiday inn. Even making that decision to spend $168.00 was excruciating! Now I am calling the Outpost Motel to see if they have a room for tomorrow night and Saturday night. It’s a little ways from where I am at now, but according to their website (and yet, who can believe any hotel website now?) it’s $75 per night.

1:42PM

Forty-two minutes to wash 4 days’ worth of laundry. And so no one takes my blue jeans and undies, I am staying in the laundry room at the hotel. Aside from the machinery, it’s cool and quiet – unlike the 103 degrees outdoors.

I’ve had a blistering headache since I got up this morning. Took FOREVER to make a decision about staying in this hotel for another night despite the cost increase. Why? Why? Why did I have such a hard time making that decision? Not sure where I’ll be staying tomorrow night. Maybe the Sleep Inn if the Outpost motel is full. Honestly, I went into this trip with literally no planned itinerary, no reservations I might have to cancel, just go with the flow. So, it shouldn’t really matter where I end up staying, right?

I’ll head out to the FBBC – that’s the Family Business Beer Co. for the uninitiated – after laundry is done. They open at 3PM.

Now, let’s try to answer the question, “What have I appreciated more about me today?” in regards to yesterday.

1)Once again – stamina. Over 12 hours on the road which could account for my headache.

2)My somewhat obsessive attention to the gas tank – I didn’t let it get below half a tank. And I tried to be nice to the engine by not running the A/C all the time.

3)Being what I hope was a courteous driver and marveling at the sheer audacity of the civil engineers who planned the interstate system in Dallas. Seriously, are they all high when they design these things?

4)I listened to my body at dinnertime at Dennys. I only ordered a club sandwich, fruit, and H2O. Then because heat was making me feel funky, I only ate half and that was plenty.

5)Calm under unfamiliar circumstances. HWY 290 is very dark and very fast. Pretty much blew through Dripping Springs because I didn’t see a sign. Finally found a place to SAFELY turn around and hit a gas station. (See previous bit about the geezer.)

Keira – ok Johnnie – said to bring him back a demon from my trip! Maybe I can find a stuffed one.

Mick wants a shot glass from the brewery. I figure I will get beer for Rob, David, and Tom. A growler each?

A new ballcap for myself from the brewery and hopefully lots of meet and greets of _Supernatural_ fans who will sign my Hunter’s Journal. I suck at taking selfies so hopefully others will do it for me!

Ooh! Now an hour to DRY the laundry. The pool outside has no one in it which surprises me considering the temperature.

Am thinking that even though the SanJac Saloon is on my spontaneous to-do list, it would be OK if I didn’t make it back into Austin. Maybe that’s me being a wuss. Maybe it’s one of those stops that would be better enjoyed by taking a direct flight from Omaha to Austin and getting a cab.

It’s amazing what a chance meeting with a local will uncover. Two suggestions for other places to explore besides FBBC: Hamilton Pool on Ranch Road 12 North and Jacob’s Well on Ranch Road 12 South in Wemberly, TX. As it turns out Hamilton Pool was on my list already.


	2. Laundry Day Thoughts Continue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short bit. Philosophical and musical ruminations.

**Holy crap – the stuff that creeps up on your brain while doing laundry!**

Who is right?

  * My family who thinks me being on my own on this trip is nuts? Are they worried for my physical or mental health or that I might not come home?
  * My friends – who at least to my face – are supportive and say it sounds like a fun adventure?
  * My therapist who thought it was a fantastic idea to take a break from worrying about transgender “issues” and how I’m “supposed to feel”/ react and unresolved grief over Keira/Johnnie trying to kill herself/himself/themselves?
  * Or is it the woman I just met in the hotel laundry room who called me brave? Queue Helen Reddy’s “I Am Woman (hear me roar).”



What do I think?

I think answering this question is gonna make me cry and there is a camera in the laundry room…

Happier, sexier thoughts: Music and Jamie Campbell Bower – my latest celebrity crush and 7th or 8th husband?

  1. David Duchovny
  2. Pierce Brosnan – 007
  3. Val Kilmer – The Saint, not TopGun
  4. Matt Lanter – Roman/Wyatt
  5. Dean Winchester – um – Jensen Ackles
  6. Dom Sherwood
  7. Jamie Campbell Bower – Christopher Marlowe



At least 4 of these have considerable musical talent which probably should reorganize the list and adds an extra element of attraction.

**Squirrel moment**

Oy! I forgot I scheduled tweets ahead of time for my work account! One went out yesterday for _Take A Poet to Work Day_ and someone actually responded, retweeted, etc. Guess even 1400 miles away, work keeps me grounded.

I have been tracking potential song lyrics. This is one of my Gallup Strengths: Input – collecting information, quotations, books, teapots, etc. Not sure if I’m collecting them like quotations or if I want to put them in a song or another poem…

Some seem to fall into the theme of “Be Careful What You Wish For” but others …

\--I need someone to dance around the kitchen with me at 1AM

\--The problem with spontaneity is that sometimes you get it

\--I don’t need a friend, I need an exorcist

\--There are times when you have to give yourself what you need, like a second cappuccino

\--Words don’t flow unless you spill a little ink first

\--Hot car, hot weather, hot music, sunburn

\--Where do you hang your skinny jeans

I'm sure there will be more, so I'll just have to find a place to put them all.

With all the music I’ve listened to, the stuff I love and the stuff I hate, you’d think that all the songs would have been written by now. All the artists including samples of previous songs – looking at you Panic! At the Disco! – suggests there’s very little originality left. Yet the stuff I’ve heard JCB perform in Counterfeit. as well as with the Darling Buds – all stemming from his own experiences – sounds original, FEELS authentic.

Here’s the “well, duh” moment. What else would his inspiration be? Most artists – musicians, poets, painters – create based on/in intense emotion. Performance is an OUTLET. The act of creation is one of CONNECTION, not pushing something away from you, rather embracing it. The inhale vs. the exhale.

Ahhh – time to fold the laundry 😊


	3. Best Laid Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First part of the last day in Dripping Springs, TX.
> 
> Per usual, comments, spelling errors, constructive crit. welcome.

7/20/18 – Last day in Dripping Springs.

Drove about 20-30 minutes from the hotel with the TOP DOWN to Reimer’s Ranch State Park. This spot was on my original itinerary when I first started thinking about the #SPNRoadtrip. The park, according to the website, used to be an actual working ranch and the owners sold the land back to the state for preservation purposes. With riverine access, different hiking trails, and horseback riding, it sounded like a really cool place to explore the ecology and geology of the area without having to go too far “off the beaten path.” Plus, the map showed that it was right next door to the Hamilton Pool and the FBBC!

> Side note: upon the suggestion of the local woman I met in the laundry room, I DID go to the Hamilton Pool website with the intention of visiting it. Turns out you need a reservation. No big! Call the park and listen to a long-ass voicemail message…yaddah yaddah… only to have it end with, “ _Today is Friday, July 20 th and the park reservations are FULL_.” Well, shit. I was hoping to explore the natural spring grottos and maybe take a swim in the pool, and this is where that whole idea of “I’m not going in with a plan, this is spontaneous, fly-by-the-seat-of-the-Mustang, Miss Independence” starts to shake your confidence a bit. The SHOULDAs and COULDAs and WOULDAs start to rear their ugly heads threatening to overshadow every other possibility with the voice that says, “I TOLD YOU SO! You didn’t have a plan and now look. LOOK! You won’t be able to see the thing you wanted to see because you didn’t plan ahead. See? Now the trip is…
> 
> WOULD YOU JUST STFU for a minute so I can THINK?!?! Part of not having a plan is that it forces you to consider MANY MANY MANY alternatives. How can you “live moment-to-moment” if all of those moments are scheduled out like a logistics supply chain? 
> 
> First, what does the park pool being full tell you? Well, it’s a more popular destination than what you anticipated and your earlier assumptions were wrong.
> 
> Second, could you go tomorrow? Well, no, because it’s not open on the weekends and you are planning to start the trip home tomorrow morning.
> 
> Third, what could you do instead? There’s the Jacob’s Well geological park a little bit south in Wemberly. The website for that park showed very restrictive timeframes, so what ELSE could you do? Reimer’s Ranch park is open all day, just a park pass fee, and you DID pack your steel-toed hiking boots. OH! BONUS! It’s on the same road as the FBBC so when you go back this evening you’ll know where you’re going!

Back at the Ranch:

It’s a crisp blue sky and already 91 degrees at 9:30AM. The top is down and I am thankful for banana-shaped hair clips. My COUNTERFEIT. Cd is pounding out rhythms that keep up with the God-only-knows how many horses under the hood - oh, wait, 460 hp! The wind whips my voice away as I’m singing along to “Lost Everything” and then I turn onto the park entrance road. The change from 65mph to 25 mph is a bit staggering because everything around me is blocked off by trees. It’s as if the highway doesn’t exist. About 50 yards later I get a true glimpse of why this area is called the Texas Hill Country. There are parts of the park road where I can’t see over the hood of the car until I’ve crested the rise and am on my way down the other side, only to be brought up short by a sign illustrating a sharp left turn. Dramatic braking ensues and I finally see the park ranger’s hut where I can purchase my pass.

She’s young. This is probably a summer gig and not very strenuous. There are no other vehicles on the strand waiting for passes. I ask her what I should be aware of and of course she replies, “Rattlesnakes.” She hands me a map and my pass and off I go.

Rattlesnakes. Yep, I am the female Indiana Jones’ psyche. Hate snakes. They aren’t natural. They move creepily, I can’t even mow my yard without my handy-dandy snake killer. (That’s a super sharp hoe for the uninitiated.) When I get to the parking area for the trail down to the Pedernales River and sandbars, I change my shoes and put on the hiking boots. If some critter wants to take a stab at my feet, he can damn well bust a fang on a steel plate. I grab my bag out of the car and put the top back up because I’ll be danged if some cold-blooded reptile is going to crawl in MY CAR and take a siesta on the hot black leather seats!

And then I hear it. There’s buzzing and rattling and some of it sounds like it’s coming from up in the trees! I quick fast pull out my phone and record a short snippet for my Instagram – because that’s what you do right? Capture the raw fear of the moment so others can say, “Wow, what a wuss.” And it’s in digital infamy forever. Wait, is that repetitive? Infamy forever? Regardless, there is crap cell service in the park so my 32 seconds of abject horror never loads! But it’s still on my phone.

I follow a woman and her two dogs down the paved path stopping every so often to get a picture of the scenery. My philosophy at this point is, “If you stay on the path, they can’t hurt you. Besides, they’re more afraid of you…” All of these tapes in our heads that we queue up and play back when we’re nervous or outright scared and then I say, “Self! One of the goals of this trip is to face what might frighten you! So move your bloomin’ arse and get down to the river.”

I’ve spent my life on and around the Missouri River, and having little forays on the Charles River and the oceans on both coasts. As much as I love the water, it’s always been noisy and unpredictable. The Pedernales River was surprisingly peaceful. The landscape it flows through is rocky and you can see demarcations in the rock on the opposite bank where the water has either risen during floods or over time has just receded to its current level. It meanders slowly and there are sandbanks where the woman with the dogs sat and watched them play. A couple of kayakers are wading hip deep in the water about 25 yards away. They appear to be arguing about which way they want to go. I can’t hear their words, just the tenor of their voices. The beach is sandy and rocky and there are large formations of rocks leaning against each other, but I am hesitant to sit because of what might wake up from the coves underneath them.

It’s shallow enough that I can take pictures and video of small schools of fish swimming along the bank. One little pool of water got cordoned off from the rest and there’s a dead tadpole lying there with algae already starting to form. Even down by the water though, I can still hear the buzzing and the rattling, though I never lay eyes on a snake. Eventually, the kayakers float on down the river, though I doubt their destination is a Cajun hideaway. (See, even on vacation, my brain can’t stop the series of song snippets and lyrics that encompass my life!)

I make my way back up the cement path and manage to catch a small lizard on video. He’s a quick little sucker and grey as the cement. A young family is just starting down the path when I reach the top. Two little girls and their mom all dressed for swimming like they do it all the time. And maybe they do. Being this far away from Dripping Springs proper, it’s easy to forget that there are schools, soccer fields, and a Walgreen’s just outside my hotel window. Not everyone in this park is here on vacation. They aren’t running away from home, this IS home.

Crap it’s hot! By the time I’ve changed out of my boots, I need gallons of water. Check the car for snakes. Hey, I had to buy ant traps for the car in Oklahoma. I am taking no chances! Top goes back down, cd player cranks back up, and I am on my way back to the hotel. I’ll come back this way again to go to the brewery. Between the Reimer’s Ranch Park and the FBBC I see a FOR SALE sign. 33.7 acres! Hmmm….”Honey, how would you feel about living next door to Dean Winchester?”


	4. Last Part of the Last Day in Dripping Springs, TX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Family Business Beer Company, new friends, the struggle.

7/20/18, 5:52PM

**FAMILY BUSINESS BEER Co!**

Somehow, sitting here on the wide veranda, it doesn’t feel like 100+ degrees.

Bought a 4-flight: Cosmic Cowboy, Haulin’ Oats, Grackle Imperial Stout, and Randy. Also ordered a blackened shrimp salad. True as advertised, the Cosmic Cowboy is super citrusy. I like it!

They are playing fantastic music on the radio: Hang On Sloopy, People are Strange, Son of a Preacher Man, Soul Man…

The Haulin’ Oats is kind of bitter, but it picks up the spicy bits of the shrimp really well! (And my inner music geek is positively CACKLES at the punny name.) OK – writing in my journal is freakin’ some people out – like I’m a food critic or something! Everyone that walks by just kind of raises their eyebrows and then they scurry away.

Out in “the yard” – not sure what else to call it – they have beanbag “horseshoes” game and I think this is the kind of place John Denver was thinking of when he wrote “Cool and Green and Shady.”

Grackle is very stout – not as smooth as Guinness, but then, is anything?

“We gotta get out of this place, if it’s the last thing we ever do…”

It sounds like they might have live music this evening. Bit of a discordant noise though. If you’re going to have someone inside playing on the stage, you really should turn off the music broadcast.

Looks like there is a mom and daughter playing cribbage sitting behind me. I might go ask to join them because they are playing 2 hands on a board made for 3.

Last one on the flight is Randy, FBBC’s ALES for ALS brew. Very grapefruity! Yep, this one is definitely going home 😊 (THIS is where I turned into a bootlegger.)

SO, the two ladies playing cribbage: NOT mother and daughter. SISTERS! Supernatural fans AND…they’re from IOWA!!! Stacey and Shelly flew down to Austin for an education conference and took an UBER out to the FBBC! Something like $47 each way. Ouch. But for them, totally worth it to NOT have to rent a car, drive through Austin, and they have a designated driver on standby. So much fun to spend the evening chatting with them, talking about our favorite main characters, supporting cast, etc. When I said I was a Dean girl but Sam curious, they both just about spit out their beer.

We talked about the #SPNRoadtrip and WHY I was doing it. Maybe it was the local brews that loosened my tongue. Perhaps it was the affability of three complete strangers forming a bond over a tv show. Eventually, our conversations got personal and we talked about kids, work, spouses, and family. I’d been practicing referring to my kids as he/him and using their preferred names of Sammie and Johnnie, rather than Sabrina and Keira, what they were born with. But I slipped at one point and Stacey questioned it. So I explained about Sabrina first believing that she was lesbian in high school, which I was OK with.

At that point Stacey said, “Well yeah, lesbians are great!” She and Shelly both start laughing and talk turned to how difficult it had been for her to come out to her family. She was in her 30’s. As our conversation progressed, I revealed that Sabrina had discovered in her first year of college that really she was transgender – a boy stuck in a girl’s body – and that HE, Sammie, wanted to start testosterone shots.

Later in the conversation I was able to tell them about Keira’s struggles with identity and how she had tried to commit suicide via ibuprofen overdose. She also seems to have discovered that she is transgender and prefers to be called Johnnie. However, HE also likes to wear dresses and heels and makeup on occasion. I questioned this discovery as perhaps being Keira’s/Johnnies way of supporting Sabrina/Sammie, but I don’t live in Johnnie’s head. My inability to call either of my children by their preferred names rather than the ones they were given at birth had caused such a rift that my husband told me I was going to lose what relationship I had with the kids. (THAT conversation is another story.) It was at that point that I started planning this trip in earnest because I needed space and time to NOT have to think about why this was so difficult for me. If things percolated in my subconscious, which I am sure they did, that was fine. But I needed to “run away from home” a la Linus Larraby to hopefully get to a place where I could deal.

And you had to go 1500 miles away and spend $1300 on a rental car to “deal?” Yes, yes I did.

Of course there were other reasons I wanted to plan this trip. I wanted to meet other _Supernatural_ fans face-to-face. I wanted to visit places where episodes of the show were located. People who I had only ever interacted with online were SO COOL, I couldn’t help but believe they would be so much more in person. I was even willing to expand my _Supernatural_ exclusivity to include my musical interests.

> A few months ago I acquired a new celebrity crush and then discovered that he could sing and had released an album. The music was heavily guitar-based with elements of punk and heavy metal, which isn’t typically my favorite kind of music, but after seeing some short clips of the performances and hearing the songs performed both electric and acoustic, it really started to grow on me. In early-mid 2018 Counterfeit. was embarking on their first U.S. tour. I found a website that had them scheduled to play in Kansas City at a small venue on July 15th. That was the date I was planning to start the trip and I have friends in KC with eclectic musical tastes. It FELT like kismet. Drive 3 hours to KC, have some BBQ, a couple of drinks and then thrash the night away, and maybe even meet JCB.
> 
> Alas, it was not to be. After a May performance in Los Angeles, they tweeted, “Thanks for having us America. See you again soon.” I responded saying, “It looks like you guys are back here in July in Kansas City?” and sent them the link advertising the show. Turns out it was NOT the same band that JCB started. Or, it may have been a planned stop that fell through, like happens with lots of acts. Who knows? Certainly my disappointment over NOT starting the trip with seeing them play contributed to the playtime “Together We Are Stronger” received in the ‘stang’s cd player.

Stacey, Shelley and I closed down the FBBC after visiting the giftshop and paying for the four growlers of beer I was taking home with me. My new friends signed my hunter's journal and I waited with them until their UBER showed up. It was still a hot, humid drive back to the hotel, but I was comfortable. Am I a little bummed that I hadn't been able to meet Jensen or Daneel while at FBBC? Yes. It's not their fault that I didn't pay attention to when San Diego ComicCon was scheduled. There's always next time.


	5. SPN Roadtrip - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Take the long way home...

7/21/18, 9:50PM

Long-ish day of driving and I really am trying to avoid taking the interstates. I set out around 9 AM this morning so I could hit up the Walgreen's across from the hotel. I needed a second cooler for the growlers and enough ice to fill the coolers. Then it was out on HWY 290 East from Dripping Springs and I STILL ended up on I-35 in Austin for a bit. Stopped in Giddings, TX, for lunch and gas. **Forty minutes** is all it takes for Twizzlers to wilt like week-old lettuce in the car. Took HWY 77 North out of Giddings for a long, long, long time, then found HWY 31 East for a while and finally around 4:30 about 50 miles outside of Dallas in Corsicana, TX, I said, “I’m done! It’s flippin 109 degrees and I’m hungry and tired. So, I am done for today.”

Here’s another instance of spontaneity. I am writing this sitting in a Motel 6 right now. Not as skeevy as a hotel Sam and Dean might stay in, and it does have wi-fi, but why am I in Motel 6 and not another Holiday Inn Express like I expected? Because **there are no rooms at the Inn**! Seriously, almost every hotel room in Corsicana is booked because of a baseball tournament!

Had a $6.00 dinner at WaffleHouse. Hit up WalMart for more Twizzlers, a bottle of wine, more ice for the growlers, and a gallon of antifreeze for the car. Yes, running a high-performance vehicle at over 70mph consistently in 109 degree heat tends to stress the engine. No, it’s not my car. However, one of the keys to NOT having to be rescued is PREVENTATIVE measures. Hence, the antifreeze. The car is still cooling off, so I’ll put the coolant in before I take off in the morning…as soon as I figure out where the damn hood release is on the car! Youtube help me now because the little quick start guide in the glove box is woefully inadequate.

There has to be some cliché I’m invoking by watching Hallmark Channel “Christmas in July” romance movies while lounging in the Motel 6. Alas, there are no “Magic Fingers” attached to the bed. Annnnd this just took a bit of an awkward turn. Time for lights-out.


	6. The Long Way Home Continues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BBQ and the Bandit

7/22/18

Crossed from Texas into Oklahoma about 3:25 PM. Stopped in another Motel 6 just north of OKC for the night.

Had lunch today in WhiteWater? TX – the Triple R Barbecue – no, WhiteWRIGHT, TX, on HWY 69 North. It’s kind of a funny story.

> Spent a bit of time figuring out how to get out of Corsicana so I didn’t end up going through Dallas. Some state highways, some Texas Ranch Roads, and all sorts of small towns that force you to drop your speed from 70 to 30 in less than a block. Anyway, I’m blazing along HWY 69 about 70-75mph when I see a sign for Texas BBQ and ZOOM! There’s this little place right on the highway on my right. I go on past, look at the clock and it’s 11:10AM. Close enough to lunch time! I bang a u-turn about a mile up the road and backtrack to the Triple R. Turns out they make their own brisket, which is what I had, plus some cold salads, and homemade blackberry cobbler.
> 
> It all smelled so good and I must have needed to eat because I noticed my hand holding the fork was a bit shaky. To be fair, it could have been nerves because people look askance at a woman eating by herself in a restaurant-type establishment. Note to self, though: try not to moan out loud when eating alone. That, too, will cause polite folks to raise their eyebrows and cover children’s ears. The restaurant staff offered their wi-fi password so I could upload a bit of #foodporn. Perhaps it’s silly, but it’s good to remember meals you thoroughly enjoyed. Bonus! Having authentic Texas BBQ was a goal for the trip. Achievement unlocked!

After lunch, I ran a ways up the highway and pulled over to get some scenic pictures. I didn’t do this enough on the trip down. I should have pulled over or stopped in the little resort area by Lake Eufala, OK, to get pictures of the fog rolling across the lake last week.

Montana is called Big Sky Country, but there are so many places in Texas that fit that description!

The battery has died in my FitBit so I feel kind of naked without it. On the other hand - where I don’t wear a watch – I’m not getting a lot of steps driving all day.

Oy! I’ve been trying to get a video and picture to post to Instagram for 2 days and it wont’ go! Arrrgh! I have no problems texting or tweeting and I’m seeing other people’s posts so what wrong with mine?

Am bummed that I wasn’t able to meet @McSmiterton in OKC on either leg of this trip. Grand plans of discussing fandom studies and her research fell through because of events beyond either of our control. Death, like life, happens. When it happens to someone close to you, obligations come crawling out of the woodwork and there is no choice but to fulfill them…usually to the detriment of whatever else you had planned. That was the case with Wendy and I. **Spontaneity – sometimes you get it**. Silver lining though: she now has a reason to return to FBBC on her own to refill her growler since I was unable to do it for her.

I did hear “East Bound and Down” while I was driving today. I feel like Bandit would be slightly proud of me for bringing beer back to Cornhusker country. Bootlegger - snicker. So naughty.


	7. We're in Kansas Toto

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting fans, making more friends

7/23/18 Noon

Had breakfast at the Cracker Barrel, gassed up the ‘stang and bought a couple of Route 66 souvenir shot glasses. Found a kitchen towel with a moose embroidered on it for Johnnie/Keira! It says, “Don’t Moose with me!” and I’m dying because he is Bitch and I am Jerk and we have the necklaces to prove he is Moose and I am Squirrel. This towel can go into his hope chest. Oh! And I found a little horny toad keychain that is about as close to a demon (like Johnnie wanted) as you can get. 

Crossed into Kansas about 10AM.

Came up I-35 to Wichita to meet Heather (still don’t know her last name yet) from the KansasSPN Family. We’re going to have lunch at Village Inn and then hopefully meet some more people for dinner tonight.

Heather, whose last name I did get, btw, brought me a Welcome gift: a small baggie of salt with a KansasSPNFamily business card and my very own Hunter’s license! So cool. After lunch we decided to “trip the light fantastic” in her van and she toured me around Wichita. We hung out at the mall for bit, hit a very cool local bookstore looking for a new journal for Johnnie, literally crept through a portion of the city that has its own police force! The McMansions were nicely taken care of, too. All the while we talked about _Supernatural_ , the music we had on our playlists, jobs, husbands – and one of the stops we made was at her husband Chris’s office so I could park my car somewhere safe. Chris and I discovered our kindred spirits in a lust for fine writing instruments. We both collect fountain pens and refuse to write on substandard paper! What is it about technically savvy professionals and their love of pens? I have another librarian friend that collects fountain pens too. Is it because we spend most of our lives behind a computer screen? Something to ponder later maybe…

A quick stop at Target, and then it was time to meet more folks for dinner. As it happened, I hadn’t made a reservation at a hotel yet, so we pulled out my laptop and found two Motel 6’s within easy distance of the restaurant. I called and actually made a reservation! As it happened our only dinner companions were Heather’s husband and a friend named Hannah. We talked about kids, school, poetry, and motorcycles…actually, motorcycle helmets. Maybe it was more like the lack of helmets I’d seen in Kansas. I ride a maxi scooter – a 400 cc Suzuki Burgman - and grew up as a passenger on my dad’s BMW. He was a motorcycle safety instructor for a while and I believe in ATGATT – All The Gear All The Time. Plus, Nebraska has a mandatory helmet law. I made the comment that it appeared Kansas didn’t have a helmet law.

The consensus reply was that there was a helmet law, it just wasn’t enforced. Apparently there is also a fairly vocal faction of riders in Kansas that believe it should be personal choice. I don’t disagree with that faction, but my logic has its basis in risk management. Riding a motorcycle is risky and can even be deadly. **It’s also a hell of a lot of fun**. Where I live, wearing a helmet is the law, and as a law-abiding citizen, that’s what I do. However, I’ve had this conversation with myself, too. IF it wasn’t the law, would I still wear the helmet? For me, the answer is a resounding yes and I’ll tell you why.

> The whole environment around rider safety can be compared to mandatory seatbelt laws. Do I think there should be a mandatory seat belt law? As in, should automobile drivers and passengers be required to wear a seat belt? No. Should automobile MANUFACTURERS be required to include seatbelts in their vehicles? Absolutely. But individuals should be able to make the choice about their personal safety precautions. If I want to minimize my risk of being seriously injured in either an automobile accident or a motorcycle accident, I wear a seat belt or I wear my helmet and gloves and boots. That’s MY internal risk analysis. If I decide not to use those safety precautions and serious injury or even death happens to me, that’s Clorox for the gene pool. 
> 
> I’m afraid I got a little bit up on my soapbox over dinner. Sigh…

OK, this is a hoot! The desk clerk at the Motel 6 is a HUGE _Supernatural_ fan. I was wearing one of my SPN t-shirts which he commented on and then we just chatted each other up for about 15 minutes. After I lugged the coolers into my room and ransacked the ice machine for refilling the coolers, it was time for some dessert. I had requested a piece of pie to go after dinner. Alas, I did not ask for a fork to go with it. Surely the motel front desk stocks plastic utensils right? I head back out to the front desk and “Supernatural guy” picks up the conversation like I had never left! He did search high and low for a plastic fork or spoon, but no luck. He was genuinely apologetic that they didn’t have anything. At that point I felt bad for even asking! As I walked back to my room I decided to dig through my purse. Way down in the bottom, under my eyeglass case and a wad of gas receipts was a plastic-wrapped package of a fork, knife, and napkin that I must have squirrelled away from a previous meal stop. Who knows? By the time I found it, I was contemplating opening up my multi-tool from Cabela’s. Men are astounded by what women keep in their purses. Me? I should have started my search in there. Pleasant surprise or foregone conclusion? You be the judge!


	8. We're Still in Kansas, Toto

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: road-ragey rant ahead

July 24, 2018 4:03PM

Made it from Wichita to Lawrence. Stopped a few times to take pictures and get ice.

I truly, vehemently DESPISE, DETEST, (hold on, let me check my thesaurus) DISTAIN, and LOATHE toll booths and interstate construction in general. Am fairly certain the state of Kansas overcharged my credit card for the toll from OKC to Wichita. In most cases, I am a proponent of automation where it makes sense. Where human intervention should be needed, PUT A FRACKING BODY IN A BOOTH! Give them a person-ALITY. And when the stupid ticket-taking, ATM wannabe technology screws the pooch, you don’t PENALIZE the consumer! It’s bad enough that as a shorter-than-average driver, I have to practically grow a third appendage to reach the ticket slot. It’s worse to know that the trucker behind me watching this cluster#$%^&* happen over a period of 6 minutes is probably aggravated AF. Oh yes, Miss Spontaneity. Miss Independence. Miss Calm-Under-Pressure is foiled by technology. For just this little bit, FML.

Getting out of Wichita was an exercise in navigational acuity. I got to see quite a bit of the area around the construction zone for I-35 North. All I wanted was to get from the Motel 6 to a spot where I could connect to I-135 North. See the difference? 35 vs. 135? The Global Positioning System – those eyes in the skies that are all knowing – have no idea what’s going on down on the ground. Dead deer in the road? No clue. Local construction with bad signage? Nada. **And what possessed the city planners to legalize U-Turns?!?!**

Eventually I made it to the parking lot of the mall that Heather and I roamed yesterday. “Screw the navigation system. Where’s my bloody atlas?” (Yes, I sprinkle British vulgarities when I talk to myself.) There’s a nice inset of Wichita on the Kansas map pages. I’m at Kellogg and Rock. If I take Rock over to 13th, then 13th runs right into an interchange for I-135! OK, plug that into the navigation system – oops!

I must have touched the navigation screen at a point other than I intended, because after I got onto 13th Street, it started telling me to “turn right onto Pine in ½ a mile.”

“Turn right onto Pine now.”

“In 4 blocks, make a right, and then another right to go back to Pine.”

I DON’T NEED TO BE ON PINE! I couldn’t figure out how to make the damn thing shut up! And it just kept adjusting its directions the further I went. I expected to hear the electronic voice get snippy with me, so I turned the volume way down. But then I couldn’t hear the radio. I finally got onto the interstate, and it was exactly where the ATLAS said it would be. Traffic thinned out after several miles and I was able to find the screen control to delete the current programmed route, but holy cow! I seriously needed some kickass driving music to get that “turn right NOW” earwig out of my head.

The plan was I-135 North to Salina and catch I-70 East towards Lawrence with a small detour onto Hwy 40 to avoid the tollway and stop at the haunted Stull Cemetery. Stopped on I-70 just east of Salina for gas and coffee. Stopped at a rest area before hitting Topeka to get some beautiful pictures of the scenery. It’s not rolling hills, it’s just HILLS.

In Topeka I dropped off the interstate onto Hwy 40 to continue into Lawrence. What a gorgeous drive! Twisty and smooth, like it had been recently resurfaced. This would be fun to ride on the Grey Goose. I missed the turnoff for the county road leading to the cemetery. The road is marked, but not with a clear sign saying, “Haunted stuff, this way.” And the Kansas DoT signage is different than what’s been posted for the US Postal Service/ E-911 compliance. No worries. There will be plenty of time to explore once I get to Lawrence proper.

Being the overachiever that I am, I ended up going AROUND Lawrence and coming into town from the east side via the K-10. A Kansas Highway designation, not a U.S. highway designation. Lots of expansion and construction going on in Lawrence. Oh, look at that! A QT gas station. I could almost be home. I am now super excited to meet Rianna M., who was introduced to me via text from Heather. I don’t even have an inkling of what I want to see in Lawrence other than the cemetery and maybe the street where Sam and Dean were supposedly born. I feel like I should leave the tour guiding up to the local expert and have no expectations. This way, I’ll be pleasantly surprised and have way more accurate memories. Whew! It’s still hot. Time for some ice cream.

Time to meander over to the Stull Cemetery to see what all the fuss is about. Some folks have told me there’s not much to see now because vandals caused the community to fence off the cemetery and put up No Trespassing signs. I have a friend who is very much into ghost hunting and loves travelling to small town cemeteries. I thought a little bit of dirt from Stull would make a nice souvenir. But, no such luck getting in to see any of the graves and the road that goes up behind the cemetery to the ruins of the old church did not feel Mustang-friendly. I did get some good pictures of the graveyard though.

Parked in the WalMart lot waiting for Rianna. Supposedly, she attended Omaha Comicon the weekend before I left to begin my #SPNRoadtrip and cosplayed as Dean. If it’s who I am envisioning, I sat a few chairs down from her in the Hunting 101 panel and she was the only one who had memorized the Exorcism used in the show. I did park under a tree because there was some shade. That didn’t last long!

Ahhh, I bet this is her now. What’s the first thing she says? “Hi! I figured the red hot car with Nebraska plates had to be you.” We stood in the sun chatting for at least 20 minutes getting acquainted and figuring out where we were going. She’s so easy to talk to and a veritable encyclopedia of details and analysis regarding _Supernatural_. And, yes, this is the same woman I attended the Hunting 101 panel with. 

First stop, one of the large cement lettered signs that says “LAWRENCE” on each block. We challenge our guardian angels to keep up with us jaywalking across the 4 lane highway to get pictures of the sign. Then we go to Baxter St. which was actually used as part of the address where Dean lived in the episode where he’s captured by the djinn and Mary’s alive, Sam and Jess are getting married, and John died of a heart attack. There’s a house on this street with the coolest totem carving out of a tree trunk. It appears to have been created with a chain saw.

Following Rianna to Overland Park, KS, just outside of KC, to meet another fan for authentic Kansas City BBQ, is an adventure. I thought I had a lead foot! About 40 minutes later I am introduced to Breanna (and now I’m calling them in my head “Ree and Bree”) at Jack Stack Barbecue. 9520 Metcalfe Ave, Overland Park. This becomes a very serendipitous location because Metcalfe turns into I-65 North and I don’t have to go THROUGH KC traffic to get on the road home. AND the other connection my brain makes is to the lead singer of Counterfeit., whose FULL name is James _Metcalfe_ Campbell Bower, and most of his devotees just shorten it to JCB.

I buy a real Coke at the last gas stop I make headed out of town. It says, “Have a Coke with Hunter.” I take it as a sign that my own little hunting trip is coming to a close. It’s true as I look back, I haven’t been heard from in a while. People know approximately where I am, but they don’t have details. Lack of detail makes people worry. **Worried people drag siblings out of their lives to go find the missing and end up battling the dark.**


	9. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carrying on

There is no darker stretch of highway or interstate than I-29 between St. Joseph, MO and Council Bluffs, IA. I am wishing my glasses were coated in holy oil just for a little extra glimmer. The nice thing about interstate traffic at 11:30PM on a Wednesday is that there is very little of it.

Crossed the Missouri River into Nebraska right about midnight. Fourteen minutes til I get home. The only person to greet me is the cat. I am home and I haven’t missed it. I haven’t missed the kid or the cat or the husband and that has never happened when I have gone away before. Work trips I’ve missed people while I was gone and was always glad to get home. What’s different about this?

Therapy guy says I gave myself permission to focus on what I wanted from this trip. Doing that, and knowing that kid, cat, and hubby could take care of themselves let me learn some things.

What have I appreciated about me today? Through the whole trip?

  1. I am from hardy stock. My stamina, some would call stubbornness, is incredible.
  2. It’s not the simplistic “survival of the fittest”. Those that are the most responsive to change – the adaptable – will survive in their environments.
  3. Whether it’s connecting with people or ideas or situations or music, I find them and make them my own.
  4. Despite having what many people have termed “a poker face” I share a lot of myself with people.
  5. No, the car doesn’t have to be back til Saturday. Yes, I still have money left. I could stay on the road for a couple more days. But, I feel like I need to be back to help at least a little bit with band camp. There’s a new director and this is his first high school gig. He’s going to need parental support.



There are situations in my life that have no “fix.” Not to be trite, but “they are what they are” and the solution to dealing with them is to realize that I did not cause the situation. As the Osborne Brother’s song says, “It ain’t my fault.” All I can do is accept it and carry on.

~The end of the road~


End file.
